


Fighting Gravity

by schlopreceptacle



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Crush at First Sight, M/M, Saiyans as Humans, and vegeta is a dick, kind of serious goku, overly competitive saiyans, powerlifting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-18 15:24:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17583407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schlopreceptacle/pseuds/schlopreceptacle
Summary: Goku is a world record holding powerlifter stuck training at a bodybuilder’s paradise. Fortunately, Vegeta is there to keep things interesting.Kakavege Week Day 3: Gloves and wristbands





	Fighting Gravity

**Author's Note:**

> This is the most self-indulgent fic I have ever written (powerlifting being my other favorite hobby next to writing Kakavege fics), so uh, please enjoy me smashing my two favorite things together into this mess.

He slid his thumb through the elastic loop, then pulled the royal blue wrist wrap taut against the underside of his wrist. He cranked it toward him, tighter with each turn, feeling his hand going numb, but willing to ignore the sensation; after all, it meant the wraps were doing their job. He pressed the velcro until it stuck and flexed his hand. It was a tight fit. He looked up, absentmindedly pulling his thumb back out of the loop with a snap. 

“Bar loaded for Goku!” 

It was time. He felt centered, focused. He walked forward, up to the wooden platform, ignoring the eyes watching him. The bar seemed to hang in midair, loaded with a colorful amalgamation of green, red, yellow, and blue. 

He took a breath and gripped the bar. Another breath as he swung underneath it, centering it on his traps, until it felt like it was an extension of his own body. Another breath. He stood tall. One step back. Another step back. Knees locked. Chest up. Elbows down. 

The head judge had his hand raised. Goku met his eye and gave a nod. He was ready. 

“Squat!” The judge sliced his hand down through the air, leaning forward to watch Goku’s descent. 

Every muscle taut, he broke at the hips. The bar felt solid on his back. In the hole, he drove up. The fight on the way up was always the hardest part. It seemed like an eternity that he hovered there, the blood pressure in his head pounding like thunder. 

“Drive! Drive! Up! Up!” The chants of the audience gave him precious energy, the motivation to push through. Finally he stood with a defiant roar, knees locked and face red. 

“Rack!” the head judge shouted. Spotters pushed him and the bar into the rack, and it was all over. 

He peered up. His body was still shaking from the exertion and rush of adrenaline. 

Three white lights. 

Cheers broke out in the crowd. “That is a good lift! We have a new world record, folks!” the announcer shouted into the mic. “Eight hundred and thirty-seven pounds raw, people! Let’s make some noise for Goku!” 

The rest of the meet became a blur. Goku destroyed the rest of his own personal records - resulting in the overwhelming culmination of months upon months of relentless training, in the gym for upwards of three hours every evening, rep after rep of squat-bench-deadlift, waking up in the morning just to have to eat from dawn until night, nursing an injury here and a nagging pain there, until part of him became convinced that his body had reached its true limits of how much it could lift. 

But no - he had given it all he had, and it had been worth it. It would always be worth it. Training was everything to him. What good was living if you couldn’t just keep getting stronger forever? 

 

Goku pouted as he walked into West City Gym, head down with his hood pulled up to cast a shadow over his face. His usual powerlifting gym, Roshi Performance, was closed so Roshi himself could go on vacation in Vegas. 

WCG wasn’t exactly the place for a powerlifter. It was a bodybuilding playground - guys who hogged the squat rack to do shrugs while making kissy faces at themselves in the mirror and flexing at aspiring figure girls. Goku didn’t like to judge, but he was serious about his training and didn’t have time to wait for people to finish hogging all the equipment while they did their circuits. Ultimately WCG was his backup gym, and it just didn’t feel quite like home. 

It was a rainy night, and the gym was packed. With a sigh he scoped out a spot. There: next to the one deadlift platform, an open rack. With a sigh of relief, he claimed his territory. 

He started to warm up. Goku had the ability to tune out the world: headphones on, focused, he almost didn’t notice that anyone was nearby until he heard the satisfying, thunderous slam of a heavy deadlift meeting the floor.

He looked over. For the first time he noticed him: a short, shredded guy, with wild black hair shooting up like a flame from his head, performing a beautiful sumo deadlift with ease and power. He wore a skintight white tank top and navy leggings, and a bright yellow belt that seemed almost too big for his frame. He was a small guy, but definitely not skinny; he was thickly cut, made entirely of muscle with no fat on him at all. Goku counted the plates and did the math; this guy had to be around one hundred and sixty pounds, but he was hitting six hundred pounds for easy reps. 

Goku couldn’t have hidden the fact that he was staring. He didn’t come to this gym that often, but it was frequent enough that he knew he had never seen this guy here before. 

“Yo, Kakarot!” 

He turned, slinging his headphones around his neck as he winced at the use of his birth name. 

“Oh, hey,” he said warily to Raditz. He should have known his older brother would be here. He supposed he should have been grateful for all the years that Raditz dragged him to the gym when he was a kid; after all, he would probably not have started lifting if it weren’t for Raditz’s influence. But seeing his roided-out brother now was not what he was in the mood for. 

“What are you doing, slumming it here with us meatheads?” Raditz towered over him, his long dark hair pulled back into a low bun. He wore his usual stringy tank top and what he liked to call his “spandex,” which was little more than extra stretchy underwear. 

“Ah - Roshi’s is closed for the week,” Goku said, rubbing the back of his neck. He was about to try to escape the conversation when his brother began snapping his fingers at the mysterious short guy on the deadlift platform. 

“Vegeta! C’mere! This is my little brother I was telling you about.” Raditz slammed a hand on Goku’s shoulder and stared over expectantly. 

Goku was pretty sure that this Vegeta guy had not heard a word. He wore even bigger headphones than Goku, headphones that screamed “if you fucking talk to me I will stomp your face.” His scowl would probably make children cry, and Goku wondered if his eyebrows were always like that, or if he was just pissed about something. 

“VEGETA!” Raditz bellowed. 

Vegeta, who had his back turned as he chugged from his shaker bottle, turned with a glare. He yanked his headphones down. “What do you want, Raditz?” he said, his voice icy and gruff. Goku realized he didn’t really want to talk to this guy, regardless of how good his deadlift seemed to be. 

“This is my brother, Kakarot!” Raditz pushed Goku forward so violently that his toe caught the edge of the deadlift platform. Goku almost ate it as he stumbled forward, but he caught his balance just in time to realize he was inches away from Vegeta’s angry face. 

He sure was handsome enough, despite the obvious and seemingly unnecessary rage, and from this vantage point, Goku could see a lovely pec split beneath his tank top and bicep veins jutting out of his arms. 

“And?” Vegeta asked, sneering up at Goku. 

Goku took a step back, off of the platform, and stared Vegeta down. 

“He’s the one who just set a new squat world record. I told you about it the other day! Look!” Raditz had already taken out his phone and pulled up his own video from the meet that day.

Vegeta tapped his toe and folded his arms, watching the video as though he were thinking of one million other things he could have been doing. 

“So what, you’re like a weightlifter?” Vegeta asked, finally meeting Goku’s eyes when the video was done. 

“Ah… a powerlifter, actually.” 

“The fuck’s the difference?” 

“You know… weightlifters do that crazy overhead stuff at the Olympics…” Goku feigned lifting a barbell overhead. 

“So how much was that, anyway?” 

“Eight thirty-seven pounds,” Goku answered. “Three-eighty kilos, I think.” Somehow it still didn’t feel like a high-enough number; no number probably ever would.  

“He deadlifted fucking eight eighty-one,” Raditz offered excitedly. Vegeta didn’t even look at him, instead sizing Goku up. His dark eyeballs seemed to stare right under Goku’s skin.

“Um, y’know,” Goku stammered, “I was watching you deadlift a little bit there. You’re pretty good. You should compete. I mean, if you don’t already. But I’m guessing you probably don’t, since…” Impulsively, he reached down and took hold of one of Vegeta’s hands. Vegeta wore a pair of crisp white half-finger gloves - which were definitely  _ not  _ allowed in powerlifting. Goku’s fingers lazily ran across Vegeta’s exposed fingertips. “Gloves don’t actually help your grip, y’know.” 

Vegeta yanked his hand away so hard he almost spun around from the momentum. “You better watch it, Kakarot,” he spat. “What is that supposed to mean, anyway?” 

“Gloves aren’t allowed,” Raditz said in a prissy voice, sticking his tongue out, before Goku could respond. “But Kakarot’s right - you’re pretty strong. You should think about doing a meet. I bet Kakarot would help you out.” Raditz elbowed Goku in the side, then shot Vegeta a wink.

Vegeta ignored that little part of the exchange. “Tch. I already know I’d be better than most of the sad sacks up there.” 

Vegeta’s nasty demeanor made Goku want to both punch him and pick him up and snuggle him. His scowl was scary, but his competitive attitude somehow made him more enticing. And Goku couldn’t deny that the guy was strong as hell, in spite of his size. If this guy wasn’t such a dick, Goku would probably just ask him out.  _ Why is he so pissed off? Roid rage? Maybe he’s hungry.  _

“Umm, anyway.” Goku turned back toward his rack and adjusted the velcro of his wrist wraps. “I’m here to train, so you guys have fun.” 

Headphones on. Music up. Bar loaded.

But no matter how loud his own music became, it could not drown out Vegeta slamming his deadlifts into the platform. It was even louder than before - and Goku felt like he was being watched. Every time he peered over, it seemed that Vegeta was quickly glancing away.

Distractions. This was why he hated training here. He huffed an angry breath. Now he was pissed. It was one thing to have some banter in between sets, but this guy was getting into his head and interrupting his training. He loaded a couple more plates onto the bar, bringing the total over seven hundred. He hadn’t lifted that much since the meet, and certainly not without a spotter. Plus he was going off-program, and Roshi was sure to give him an earful for that. But knowing that he was about to have three times his bodyweight on the bar was enough to snap him back into focus. 

He tightened the lever of his bright orange belt and took a steadying breath. He gripped the bar, then gave it a furious yank, the plates and rack rattling with that beautiful metallic sound. Breathe. Swing under. Lock in. Stand tall. One step back. Another step back. Knees locked. Chest up. Elbows down. 

He knew people were watching. There weren’t a lot of guys in this gym who could lift this much, so it was bound to attract some viewers. 

But really, he just hoped Vegeta was watching. 

Breathe into the belt. Hold it. Break at the hips. Break at the knees. In the hole. 

It felt heavy, he couldn’t deny that; but that moment of freefall, of wondering, of fear right in the middle passed more quickly than he expected. 

Elbows forward. Chest up. DRIVE! Stand tall. Knees locked. Rack. 

“Nice one, Kakarot!” Raditz called. The bodybuilders hovering around him gave some appreciative nods, then went back to their curls. 

Despite himself, he looked over at Vegeta. The smaller guy had already turned away and started chalking up his hands; his gloves had been tossed to the floor. The weight on the bar was almost what Goku had just squatted. 

He didn’t want to stare at this jerk, but he couldn’t help himself. Seeing someone else so strong made him excited. He knew what it was like, to seek that strength - and then to grab it, literally, defying gravity and defying all of the weight bringing him down. 

Vegeta stood back from the bar, then took a breath. He stepped forward. His left foot shot out, stance wide, his toes nearly touching the plates. The right foot mirrored it precisely. Vegeta flung his hands into the air, over his head, as he focused his energy. 

Goku was not surprised that the guy had an elaborate deadlift setup, yet watching him go through the motions was almost as thrilling as preparing for a lift himself. 

Vegeta brought himself down to grip the bar, every muscle straining as he maintained tightness. Chest up. Shoulders back. Ass down. Deep breath into the belt. 

Then he pulled. 

Goku couldn’t help himself. “Go! UP!” he screamed at the top of his lungs, as every muscle in Vegeta’s body fought against the unshakeable power of gravity. Vegeta’s legs quivered as he reached his sticking point, struggling to bring his hips through to finish the lift. 

“COME ON!” Goku bellowed. 

Finally, with a triumphant roar, Vegeta locked it out. He stood for a moment, gripping the bar - looking defiant, having won yet another battle with gravity and with himself. Goku knew the feeling well. 

Vegeta slammed the bar down, sending a crack through the deadlift platform. He dropped down to one knee. 

“Nice, Vegeta!” Goku shouted, approaching, wanting to give the guy a hug or at least a high five. But suddenly Vegeta fell forward and face-planted onto the damaged platform. 

“Well shit,” Raditz remarked unhelpfully. 

“Vegeta!” Goku cried. “Get some ammonia,” he said to Raditz. “I have some in my bag.” 

Raditz retrieved a capsule from Goku’s belongings as Goku adjusted Vegeta so that he was lying on his back. He realized then that the scowl was not permanent; with his eyes closed and unconscious, Vegeta actually looked peaceful - and perhaps even more handsome. But it wasn’t a good time for ogling. Goku cracked the ammonia capsule and wafted it under Vegeta’s nose. He blinked and snapped up with a snort. Goku rested a hand on his shoulder to steady him. 

“The fuck,” Vegeta muttered. The scowl was back. 

“That was a nice one,” Goku said, giving Vegeta a genuine smile. “Like I said, you’re pretty good.” 

“Whatever. I didn’t ask for your approval. You think you can just barge into my gym and start showing off and bragging about your bullshit world record. Someone had to take you off your pedestal.” 

Despite his obvious irritation, Goku noticed that Vegeta had not tried to brush off his touch. Goku couldn't help but give a little laugh as he held out his hand. Vegeta took it, and Goku felt calluses on his palm after all. 

“You wanna come to  _ my _ gym sometime, then?” Goku asked as he helped Vegeta stand. He realized that they were still holding hands, but Goku wasn’t about to pull his away. “There’s some really cool equipment there. We could have a real mock meet and everything.” 

“So I can embarrass you there on your home turf?” Vegeta retorted with a wicked smile that made Goku’s knees weak. “Sounds like a plan to me, Kakarot.” 


End file.
